Remembering Sunday
by SemperSursum
Summary: Ah, yes. Love. It's one the many things she doesn't believe in anymore. It's one word she doesn't like hearing, especially from him. Looking back on it now, he shouldn't have ever told her that.


_**REMEMBERING SUNDAY**_

_He opens his eyes only to find a pair of chocolate orbs glaring at him._

"_You snore." The petite brunette said it as if he's committed murder. He couldn't blame her though. Even his brothers hated to sleep in the same room as him. He rubs his eyes open and blinks them just to make sure she's real. That she's still right there, beside him and on his bed. Even after last night._

"_Sorry." He mumbles as she wrinkles her nose, one of her many mannerism. He'd never admit it but he loves it when she does that. Truth be told, he loves her cute nose. It's odd, he knows. But he's always loved everything she has ever hated about herself. Sometimes, all she notices about herself are her flaws that he has made it a habit to tell her she's beautiful every day. "Morning to you too, Macy."_

_She closes her eyes, seemingly deep in thought. Her brown hair was disheveled and she still had a few mascara smudges around her eyes. But nonetheless, she looked beautiful with her skin radiantly glowing and her lips pink and gloss free. Her lashes flutter open. _

"_You look__—__"_

"_Beautiful. I know. You tell me that every single goddamn day." They both grin at each other, forgetting his issue of snoring like an elephant for the mean time._

He woke up only to find his bed empty save for a few books and beer cans littering the floor. A headache starts to seep in. He's dreamed of her again. He sighs, remembering how perfect his mornings used to be when the first thing he lays his eyes on is her. It's only been a month but it now seems like a distant memory. A painful reminder of what they've once been.

He stands up and heads for the bathroom. It's a lost battle, being sober without her.

He opens the windows, letting the breeze hit him. He sits down and starts eating his breakfast. He can't help but wonder how he has survived eating breakfast all by himself when she hadn't come along. He sets his fork down and does nothing but stares at his plate, as if it could perform magic tricks and send her back to his arms. He sighs. Breakfast used to be his favorite meal of the day.

* * *

><p>"<em>Nick, for the last time, eat your breakfast!" He laughs at her. He can't help it. She just looks too adorable when she's all worked up and in an apron.<em>

"_Mace, I'll live." Her nose wrinkles again._

"_But I made breakfast and I wanted to eat it with you. It seems like I've gone all that trouble for nothing." She pouts. She's manipulative. This is her ploy to make him eat. She's making him guilty. He knows that, yet he sits down across her and takes a bite out of the almost burnt toast. She smiles and it's as if the bread miraculously turned into French toast. He loves French toast._

"_Eat up. I don't want you getting sick now, do I?" She sips her coffee. It's black, just how she likes it._

"_Glad to know you care about me, Mace." He smiles at her and a rare blush makes it way to her cheeks._

"_I really do, you know."_

He snaps out of it. She cares. Ha!

He finishes his food and scowls, knowing he'll just throw it all up later on. Two days of sobriety is enough.

* * *

><p>He walks and walks and walks. There he goes again. Unconsciously coming back to her apartment, a place once filled with bliss. He stares at the old red brick building, contemplating if he should try begging for hints on where she might've went. Yes, she left him. What hurts more is that he doesn't even know why.<p>

"_Come on, you slowpoke. Hurry up." He sees anxiousness in her eyes. It's so obvious that she just wanted this over with as soon as possible. After months of pleading her to show him where she lives, she finally gave in. And there they were, climbing the spiral staircase. It seemed endless for him. This was one of those things that allowed him to understand her. He never knew she was this secretive when they were in high school._

"_Climb faster or I might change my mind." She narrows her eyes at him but he ignores it. He takes two steps at a time. And finally, they stop in front of a locked door. Room 209. _

_She fumbles with her keys and before turning the knob, "My room's pretty messy, so…"_

"_Don't worry about it." She bites her lip, then goes back to the door and opens it._

_He's tongue-tied. He never expected her room to be like this. A collage of who she is. And there she was, standing in the center of all the mess that was her. The room was white with a few black birds painted above the white French bed. There were books scattered everywhere and paintbrushes on every corner. Every décor, every crack, every thing. It was all her. But what caught his attention the most was the wall opposite her made-up bed. The words "You are free" where painted in black bold letters with familiar pictures surrounding it._

"_It's a reminder." He stares at her, waiting for her to elaborate on her earlier words. "It's nice waking up every morning and being reminded that you're free. Free to do anything, free to be anything. It makes me happy all throughout the day. Nice, huh?" She grins sheepishly._

_He inspects the pictures. A couple of just the two of them. Some of her family. A lot of Stella and the band from high school. "Very."_

_He falls silent as he realizes she has become vulnerable and the wall was there to hold her up. Not to remind her how free she is. He looks at her and sees how hard it is for her to let him in. "I love you." He tells her softly. He knows she somehow finds those words offensive yet he says it anyway._

_Her eyes soften. "Nick, we've talked about this. Don't go there."_

Ah, yes. Love. It's one the many things she doesn't believe in anymore. It's one word she doesn't like hearing, especially from him. Looking back on it now, he shouldn't have ever told her that.

* * *

><p>He knocks again and again, expecting someone or anyone to answer the door. Closure or her. Either way, it's all good. He knocks again but a different door opened.<p>

"Hello, Mrs. Crenshaw."

"Hi there, Nick. She's not coming back, you know. But she left you something. Told me to give it to you if I ever see you. Wait here." The old lady gave him a sad knowing smile and went back inside her own apartment.

What she gave her was not the closure he was looking for. It only tore his heart more(if that was even possible). A ring and a short note.

_Dear Nick,_

_Sorry. I just couldn't. I don't deserve you. You don't deserve this. All this hurt. I've warned you about me. I know it's my fault for letting you in too close. Goodbye. _

_Macy._

He knew it. He shouldn't have asked her. He knew she didn't believe in love but he was just too stubborn to accept that. And where did that leave him now? All alone and broken.

* * *

><p><em>She walks towards his table in their favorite coffee shop. It's as if time has stopped and there's no use denying he's got butterflies fluttering inside his stomach. As cliché as that sounded, it exactly described what he felt that moment. "Hey, Mace. You look beautiful today."<em>

_She sits down and intertwines her fingers together. Her brows meet and she bites her lip. Those weren't good signs._

"_Nick. Let's stop." He looked at her incredulously. _

"_This whole love thing. It doesn't work for me. Uh, it's not that you're not great and all, you are. I'm just not the type of girl who could keep everything in her life constant. I can't hold my shit together sometimes and I'm afraid." She stops only to sigh. "I'm afraid that I might hurt you more than I'm hurting you now. You're a good person. You deserve better than that. You're unbelievably great that sometimes, I find myself wanting to be that girl, Nick. That girl who'll love you and not be afraid she won't wake up the next day tired of you. I know you want to believe that I'm her, but I'm not." She doesn't, no. She doesn't believe in love. It all dawns on him. But she's Macy. That girl whose smile always brightened up the room whenever she walks in, that girl who used to profess her undying love for him and his brothers during high school. Who was this girl sitting across him now?_

"_Don't look at me like that, Nick. It's just that things happen and people change. This is for our own good, okay?" Her eyes turn glassy and he clams up as she stands from her seat._

"_See you around." She kissed his cheek as soft as she could and left._

He finds the weather's sense of humor funny. It was raining, as if sealing his fate. She was never coming back. He's scared her off.

She's never coming back.

* * *

><p>This one's for Snoupy. For being such a great reader. :) Uh, this fic's didn't really have a nice ending but I hope you like it.<p>

Anyway, to everyone who's been reading Baby, You're Invincible, I'm sorry I can't finish it. I've lost the will to rewrite the lost chapters. :(


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